The sunshine felt like soft velvet on my skin.  I loved that old
fishing hole.  It was a favorite spot every summer.  Sometimes I just
lay in the sunshine looking at the clouds.  Today, there were plenty
of them skittering across the sky like a frightened flock of birds.  A
few clouds stayed longer, took shape and amused me as I lay there letting
my imagination soar.

     I saw the face of a man with a beard turn into the shape of a puppy
dog with long ears.  Always changing, the fluffy white clouds could
turn into anything I wanted them to be.  I heard my Dad beside me, he 
had missed the bite of a catfish that had been playing with his line.  I
could hear the whirring of the line as he reeled in the bait to cast 
again.  My line had been lying lifelessly on top of the water just showing
a slight ripple where the line entered it.  I was just glad I didn't 
have a nibble, that way I could just lie there listening to the sounds
of the river.  The water slowly slapping the sand bar, the crickets chirping
and the deep horn-like sounds of the bullfrogs singing.  I could just
hear my brother and sisters back at camp, their soft murmurings barely
heard and blending with the other river sounds.

     Plop!  That was the sound of Dad's bait as it hit the water.  Kerplunk,
was the sort of hollow sound it made as it sand under the surface. I could 
imagine the bait slowly sinking underneath the water.  Gliding down beside the 
brush and under the overhanging bank, further and further until it 
finally rested on the muddy bottom.  I could almost see the catfish, 
whiskers twitching like a cat, gills opening so he could take in the
oxygen and getting a taste of the bait.

     Suddenly it was as if the water had taken on life of it's own.  My
Dad yelled, "I got one!", and I was on my feet in a flash.  The muddy
water boiled like my mother's oatmeal on top of the stove.  My Dad's fishing
pole was bent almost double.  "I got a big one, Rat." My dad always called
me Rat. "You're going to have to help me get him in."  Now this was 
exciting and worth giving up the lazy, sluggish feeling that had been
stealing over me all afternoon.

     As I watched, I saw the dark reddish brown mud come to the surface
from the bottom of the river.  I could feel the awesome power of the 
old catfish as I stood there beside my Dad with the net in my hand.  I 
felt as if I had just run the 100 yard dash.  "Don't lose him Dad."  Boy,
look at that water boil.  Dad was right, it must be the 'Big Daddy' of them
all.  I saw the old cat's head come out of the water.  It had to be as wide
as my basketball net.  As the old cat's head dove for the bottom, his tail 
broke the water, whipping back and forth trying to swim away from the
man, who with all his might, was trying to bring him in.

     That was the biggest catfish I had ever seen.  By the time Dad landed
him, both of them were exhausted.  Dad's face was as red as a beet, he was 
breathing hard, and his arms were limp like spaghetti, but he had the
biggest grin I had seen there since my brother was born.  We had the whole
family down at the fishing hole before it was over.

     Back to laying on the sandy river bank, looking at the clouds, listening
to the chirping, ribitting, and the now excited voices of my brother 
and sisters.  This was the best.  My line was still in the water, still
lying limp, moving only because the current had caught at it like a child 
who couldn't quite reach what it wanted.  The smell of catfish frying
over an open fire, tantalizing tastebuds, mixing with the other smells
of the river.  Yes, this was the best.  I don't think I'll tell my Dad
I didn't bait my hook.  It's just nice to be here.